


Weep, Angel

by VendelynSilverhawk



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VendelynSilverhawk/pseuds/VendelynSilverhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One weeping angel discovers what it is like to have a heart, and a name, and what it means to be human- to love, and lose.</p>
<p>"If she had been able to make a sound the whole world would have heard her sobs, but as it was she was nothing but stone, in the end, when it mattered, and stone stayed silent. Stone did not cry, though when it rained she fancied that the drops were tears on her face, and whenever she went unobserved it was a game to pretend that she was just a normal as the rest of the humans."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weep, Angel

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story was inspired by a little blurb found on the world wide web: "What if a weeping angel fell in love with a human, but she could never touch or talk to him, and just followed him around all day. And then, just once, she followed too close, and accidentally touched him, and this was the result." I found this idea really beautifully tragic, something that had never occurred to me before, and I knew I just had to write it.  
> The female weeping angel who is the focus of this story will have italics to indicate her dialogue. The dialogue of the other angels will be bold.

She had followed just a little too closely.

All those years she had been so careful, had conquered the urge to reach out and stroke his face, tousle his hair, make any sort of contact, and in an instant all of that self-restraint had been undone.

If she had been able to make a sound the whole world would have heard her sobs, but as it was she was nothing but stone, in the end, when it mattered, and stone stayed silent. Stone did not cry, though when it rained she fancied that the drops were tears on her face, and whenever she went unobserved it was a game to pretend that she was just a normal as the rest of the humans.

**Bad. Bad to cry, to feel, to mourn. Stone does not feel.** The other angels, her brothers and sisters, laughed at her, chided her in what little language they had.

**Sister. Move, sister. Feed, sister.** She did not want to move anymore, nor feed. With all of the time energy absorbed from him, she wouldn't need to feed for hundreds of years. And in all that time she would wish that she was withering and starving instead, because it would mean she had never touched him, never lost control, hadn't seen his eyes when he died.

**~**

**Angels do not love** _._ They argued when unobserved, the dry-cheeked angels with their sister who would be human enough to cry, if it were in her power. **Humans love. Humans are weak.**

_Humans are strong. I-_ In silence she begged, a lonely bronze angel surrounded by cold stone. A predator from the dawn of time that loved the flowers children set in her hair and how they traced the detail in her carefully wrought green feathers.

**Angels are not "I." Angels hunt. Feed. Nonexistent "I."** They wanted to feed on him, to absorb the glowing golden time energy that surrounded him and grew each time he stepped into the blue box. It was a part of him that pulsed so brightly she could hardly bear to look at him, and so kept her eyes covered even when his back was turned. So much energy, so bright! That was what her brothers and sisters saw.

_I love._ In the dark, in the silence, in the time between waking and sleep when the world was dead in all of time and space, angel fought angel and something living began to beat inside of her chest where there should have been still, and silent. Claws and teeth raked her skin when bloody battles were waged unobserved by anyone, when the Weeping Angels took true form and shed their earthly disguises.

Even though she claimed him, protected him from her fellows' wrath, she could not feel safe again. The children who played around her statue in the park began to wonder why their angel looked so sad.

**~**

_Affectionate toward color. Toward flowers. Specific; Periwinkle._

It was a conclusion reached when she watched him gardening late one night, when none of her brothers or sisters were around. She stood on the empty pedestal on the street and pretended like she belonged, and saw him plant dozens of the tiny blue flowers. She wondered what it would be like, to feel the petals. She couldn't feel the flowers the children put on her hair. She imagined they were soft. Soft wasn't something she was familiar with, but that is what she imagined all the same. Along with a heart, this human had given her imagination.

**Angels do not name.** She and her brothers fought again that night- in the garden. The next morning she was standing on the pedestal again, and watched him bemoan the fact that animals had ripped up his new plants. The girl with bright red hair put an arm around him and took him out of sight.

_"I am Periwinkle."_ She whispered in the dark. It was odd to use her mouth, even when she wasn't confined by people's stares. Angels weren't made to talk.

**Angels do not name. Angels do not love. Angels do not feel. Angels hunt. Hunt.**

_"Not him. He is not prey."_

**He is energy.**

_"He is mine."_

**~**

For years she followed him whenever she could, and the humans accepted their odd moving angel. She stood and watched him garden through the summer, and waited among the skittering dead leaves which littered her park in the fall, longing for the blue box and its Gallifreyan driver to bring him back.

It always did, even though it sometimes took months for it to appear on his doorstep and deposit him and the red-hair woman. One day, when she was following him back home from work in the darkness, the Gallifreyan said that there was a Weeping Angel following them. She froze, heart banging against her bronze chest, and wailed inside because she had no way of telling them that she had not hunted since she laid eyes on him, had not touched a human for her love of him. It had already begun to show in her weathered, blunt features, but there was no way for them to see in the darkness.

"It's alright, Doctor- I know." He said, and even smiled at her. He was the good kind of human- the trusting kind. She wished he would look away, so she could smile back. "She's been here for a while, actually, but never touched anyone. I call her Periwinkle."

_You know me._ Her brothers and sisters would abuse her again tonight, for speaking like a human. Even if it was only in her head.

"' _She_?'" The Gallifreyan was stunned. "Rory, Weeping Angels are demons of the universe. They aren't ' _she_ ' and they aren't _friends_."

"Then she would have touched us by now. She's been following us since I left the hospital." He didn't look at her, but the Gallifreyan did, long and hard.

"Be warned, Periwinkle- touch my friends and I will sonic that metal head of yours so hard you won't be able to move even when no one is looking at you." And that was that.

She followed them home, and watched the blue box take him away from her again.

**~**

It was an accident. She had just been following him as she normally did, trying to make sure none of her brothers or sisters got to him. They had decided to attack the humans, and had driven Periwinkle out when she kept watching out for him.

_Sorry. Accident. Trying to save. You._ But he couldn't hear her, of course. He had been blasted back in time when she followed too close, reached too far, incorrectly judged how he would throw himself back when he saw the name in the New York cemetery.

"NO! I'm not good at goodbyes... _please_ , Amy-" The Gallifreyan wept when she took the red-haired woman, too. Periwinkle had watched them for years- she knew how much her human loved his mate. It made her sad, to have their energy whirling inside of her body. She saw the tears on the Gallifreyan's face and wished that she could cry, too, because then she would drown the earth and maybe she would die.

If they had been here, the others would have laughed- **No lungs-** but they weren't.

She was the last, and she was alone. She didn't even have a big blue box to comfort her, like the raggedy man did. She remembered that, too. The sad raggedy man who lost his pond.

**~**

In the dead of night, when no one was watching her, Periwinkle was free to search for his grave, and was found reaching for it in the dawn of the next day. Someone had come along before she was able to completely reach it. That day they installed a new 24-hour security camera on that street to catch speeding cars. It was alright, though- she didn't mind. She didn't want to move, anyway.

She was right where she wanted to be, with the person she wanted to be with, and if her brothers and sisters couldn't understand that then so be it. It was worth withering away, if she could finally be nearer to him.

When the camera shorted out for a split second one fell night she pounced on the opportunity, stone body turning to flesh just long enough for her to move. The next morning no one noticed that the angel statue had shifted, and that her bronze fingers now stroked the name on the grave as gently as a lover's kiss.

RORY ARTHUR WILLIAMS


End file.
